Chapter 8 #2
“From where? The plane?” I exclaim, feeling my heart sink over the finality of all of this.
Poppy is leaving and she’s acting like I’m a fucking afterthought.
Like when Gareth buggered off to Manchester without a look back.
Like how Dad barely cares what I have to say if I’m not talking about football.
Like how Camden and Tanner only care about themselves. Like I’m nothing.
Unable to look at her any longer, I turn away and jam my hands through my hair, trying to dampen the rage billowing up inside of me.
I don’t know what the fuck is going on. Last I knew, Poppy was going to Uni in London.
She was going to live at home. I was going to live at home.
Things were going to stay the same. London is where she belongs. Now she’s leaving?
I swerve my accusing eyes at her. “I thought I was supposed to be your best friend, and moving to another country seems like the kind of thing you tell a friend.” My tone is acerbic. I’m fucking furious.
Her eyes narrow on me as she steps out onto the front porch and backs me up a foot. She stabs her pointer finger into my chest. “I’m sorry I didn’t get around to telling you, but we haven’t really been hanging out much lately.”
“So what? That doesn’t mean we’re not still mates!” I exclaim.
“Actually, that’s precisely what it means. Friends tell each other things. Friends talk. Friends don’t betray one another.”
Betray one another? Her anger gives way to hurt as her raspy voice cracks on the last word. Her green eyes look sad and defeated. I want to reach out and hug her. Hold her until she tells me what’s going on in that wild, imaginative head of hers. But I feel like I’m looking at a stranger.
She’s fucking leaving.
My voice is soft as I look around at anything but her and ask, “What does that mean, Poppy? Are you saying I have betrayed you?”
I look up to find her staring at me so hard, I feel small.
I shrink in my own shoes and search my brain for whatever she might be accusing me of.
I’m the one who feels betrayed, though. She is the one who changed the plans.
She’s the one moving away and treating me like our friendship has meant nothing to her.
Her face softens as she takes in my confused expression. “I’m sorry, all right. It all came up rather quickly, and an international pre-course for all the non-Germans starts earlier than I realised. And, you’ve been so busy with football, I didn’t want to distract you.”
That sounds like an excuse. A shitty lie. And it doesn’t sound anything like my best friend. This is why you keep your inner circle of people you truly care about small. This kind of pain. I’ve reached my limit.
I turn to walk away as her voice calls out, “Booker, where are you going?”
I stop and scuff my foot on the pavement. “Home.” I could laugh as everything I thought I knew about my friendship with Poppy vanishes completely. “I have a match tomorrow in Birmingham that I have to ride the bench for. If hell freezes over and they put me in, I’ll try to send you a postcard.”
She huffs out a frustrated growl. “So you’re going to leave without hugging me goodbye?” Her angry eyes blink rapidly. I think I might see tears forming in their depths, but there’s no use in worrying about her anymore.
I give her one last look. “This isn’t a goodbye I want, so I’m not giving it.”
Vi calls everyone into the house when dinner’s ready.
All seated around the table, Tanner and Camden fight over who gets to hold Rocky next because she can’t ever just be sat in a pram or a car seat.
She must be held at all times. Meanwhile, I’m still holding the prize.
I hunch over her in my arms, kissing her head over and over.
God, how do they make baby’s heads so bloody soft?
In the end, Gareth sneaks in and swipes Rocky next. I smile at Vi as I pass her over. “She really is the cutest baby that ever existed.”
Vi nods but then points to me and Poppy, who’s seated across from me. “You and Poppy were pretty cute kids, too, if I recall. You were always the talk of the neighbourhood because you’d stop traffic with your cuteness.”
“We did not,” I scoff and look at Poppy, whose cheeks are red with embarrassment. It doesn’t deter Vi a bit, though.
“When you were about eight, I remember finding you two playing out back. I walked up just as Poppy said to you in her adorable little voice, ‘I wish there were a hundred Bookers in the world.’ And Booker, you looked right at her with the straightest face and said, ‘I wish there were a hundred Poppies in the world.’ And the two of you laughed like you just shared the most hilarious joke. I could have died from cuteness overload. You two were always in your own little world.”
Belle and Indie croon, and Tanner and Camden chortle like the prats they are. Tanner sighs and looks at Camden with his hands clutched against his heart. In a high-pitched voice, he says, “Camden, I wish there were a hundred Camdens in the world.”
Cam smiles hugely and replies in a similar tone, “And Tanner, I wish there were a hundred Camdens in the world, too.”
“You wanker,” Tanner bellows and yanks Camden down into a headlock.
Dad yells at them to grow up, but nobody listens until Vi places her hands on the table and shouts, “Oi, not around the baby.”
They stop instantly, and we all laugh and roll our eyes at the ridiculousness of the twins.
When things settle down and we all begin to eat, my eyes find the one person in the room I actually would take a hundred of…And that thought scares the shit out of me.